Marseille
by Pidraya
Summary: Once upon a time there was a stuffy little attic in Marseille. It was therein that the balance between Gibbs and Jenny Shepard tipped.
1. Chapter 1

_**An attic in a house overlooking the docks**_

_**Marseille, France**_

_**August 28th, 1998 **_

Jenny contemplated the discordant vitality of the docks.

Their briefing had been thorough, and she'd been prepared for a grimy picaresque city riddled with drug dealers, street urchins, and pushy street traders. For a city where motorists had no respect for street lights and people rode their motorcycles over the pavement instead of waiting in traffic. But she hadn't expected Decker to place them in a brothel – even if in retrospect it was the perfect place for a stakeout, because with so many people coming and going all the time it was easier to be inconspicuous.

She wondered how many pats on the back Will had given himself over it.

A raspy sound drew her attention to the back of the attic, and she took the opportunity to look Gibbs over.

"Anything going on?" he asked without turning round.

"Bessie's being solicited," she said as she watched a buxom brunette amble towards the front door with a man in tow. "Again. Business is good today."

He grunted his amusement and went back to cleaning his gun.

Although the op had been touted as a training opportunity for _her_, the veneer had been thin. And Gibbs was no fool. He'd been cleared for duty, but apparently that duty only extended to photographing undesirables, not chasing them.

She had refrained from asking how he was feeling; unwilling to draw attention to the fact that he might be struggling or that he might be unhappy with the assignment. He would never admit to either, anyway. She was, however, starting to recognise the signs of a man well on his way to caffeine withdrawal. She shuddered slightly and turned back to her observations. Hoping that nightfall would bring a respite from the cloying August heatwave.

Unusual even by the region's standards, apparently.

The Lebanese trawler sat innocuously in the water, and not for the first time since they'd arrived Jen wondered which one of the men on board was their operative; and which one of the drifters hanging about on land was, too. The international and cultural intersections burgeoning on the docks created a diasporic atmosphere; making it impossible to distinguish between crew and locals. In many ways it felt as though nobody seemed at home at all in this port of exchange.

She didn't envy Decker his job one bit, she concluded.

"Get some rest. It's going to be a long night."

A finger tip grazed her shoulder blade briefly as he spoke. Pushing her to try and figure out when touching had entered the equation of their interaction. She was almost sure _she'd_ started it when she'd brought him the first coffee he'd been allowed after the contamination debacle. A gentle hand on his arm as she'd placed the cup in front of him.

He'd reciprocated with a hand to the small of her back as they'd left the ship a few days later, and she was sure they hadn't stopped touching since.

Fleeting touches. Inadvertent to onlookers. With no sexual overtones or undertones that anyone could pick up on. But definitely an indication of their growing awareness of one another, albeit on a subconscious level.

She touched his elbow as she sidestepped him; wondering briefly as she lay down on the bed how much havoc being cooped up with him in such confined quarters was going to wreak on her control.

Night time brought no respite from the heat.

Gibbs let his eyes travel over his supine companion. She'd barely stirred in the few hours she'd been asleep. Something which told a story all its own - because she'd proved herself a very light sleeper on other occasions, and they were currently in a very noisy place. None of his wives had ever done well in extremely hot conditions, and he was sure Jenny wasn't any different. Although she hadn't complained, he doubted sitting behind a window in direct sunlight for a few hours had done her green eyes or her fair skin any favours either. He was debating waking her up when movement on the dock caught his eye. He had just finished training the camera lens on someone walking up the trawler's gangplank when he heard her stir and shuffle over towards him.

"Pickings must be lean if they're going on board," she observed as she settled on a box next to him. She squinted slightly. "Looks like Gracie," she added with a muffled yawn.

Gibbs smiled, amused all over again by the fact that she'd named all the working women.

"How long did I sleep?" she asked as she looked at the watch on his wrist. "Oh." Her eyes widened as she got her answer. "No wonder my head hurts. Want me to take over for a bit?"

"Sure."

"I'll just freshen up a little first, if that's okay."

Gibbs groaned inwardly as he understood the implications.

Being stuck in an attic doing surveillance meant no bathroom, and consequently no easy access to running water. Like all the women he'd ever known, Jenny obsessed over perspiration – and being stuck in an airless attic under the beating sun all day had done nothing to alleviate her concern. She'd stopped short of asking him whether she smelled bad, but the worry had been evident every time she'd used some of her drinking water to catwash discreetly.

He was carefully affording her a little bit of privacy when the smell of champagne and strawberries wafted across the room. A quick glance in her direction confirmed that she was applying his favourite body lotion. Again. Although this time around she was slathering it all over her arms and legs too. No doubt to hydrate skin that had started drying out. He shook his head minutely. Wondering if there was some way to tell her that if she put on any more of the stuff he was going to start to climb walls.

Or jump her.

The smell wrapped itself around him as she settled back on the box. Causing him to wonder if she even realised how strong the smell was.

Just as well they weren't on the streets, he thought wryly.

"Gibbs .." The tone of voice as she picked up the binoculars to get a better view drew him back to the task at hand. "That's not Gracie."

Intel had suggested the trawler would be the venue for a delivery – although it had been unclear what time it would happen, who would be picking up the consignment, or even what it was.

"There's the package," Gibbs said as he zoomed in on the man following the unidentified woman.

It was easy to see why Jen had confused her with Gracie. The lights of the dock bounced off the woman's hair, making it look garishly yellow, and she certainly looked the part. Most likely an attempt to blend in and not attract too much attention to herself, or her companion. Jen watched the pair melt into the darkness of an adjacent street; her eyes scanning the area for any signs of the operative who would be on their trail.

As she expected, he was nowhere to be seen.

Despite the stuffiness she shivered.

Things had happened fast, and she'd seen more of the woman's back than her front, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this female was a lot more than a mere go-between.


	2. Chapter 2

If Gibbs was uncomfortable he wasn't showing it, but the sounds drifting up from the floors below were making Jenny squirm.

It hadn't been so bad during the day, because the sounds of encouragement had had competition from the cacophany on the docks. But in the dead of night it was hard to block out the keening male moans.

Traffic had picked up around two a.m. Prompting her to believe that this was another city that never slept. They weren't due to leave here for another thirty-six hours, and she had no idea how she was going to cope with the oppressive heat.

Or the soundtrack.

Half an hour later she reached for the camera as a man came off the boat.

"Gibbs .."

He materialised from the other side of the room in a heartbeat.

"False alarm," she said as the man shuffled self-consciously over to Bessie and a diminutive strawberry blonde, who were sharing a laugh and a cigarette a few feet away from the trawler. "Looks like he's gonna get lucky," she added as the man solicited the younger woman successfully and walked towards the house with her.

"You mean _we're_ gonna get lucky," Gibbs quipped.

Causing Jenny to snort with laughter. At least she wasn't the only who'd noticed how _loud_ things got in Bessie's room.

"Snap a few just in case," he instructed.

"On it."

"Guess I spoke too soon."

Jen looked up to see another man come off the boat and head straight for Bessie.

Her sigh of discontent echoed around the room just as surely as the clicks of the shutter.

The next hour seemed to crawl by. Nothing was happening on the dock, and the discomfort of the heat was exacerbated by the constant groans from men being pleasured. Prompting Jen to seriously wonder when and _if_ the women downstairs ever slept. She rotated her neck; wishing she had fresh clothes left to change into as she looked down at a large wet patch between her breasts where her tank top was sticking.

Gibbs shifted fractionally to her right – his stance suddenly defensive - and immediately the atmosphere in the room changed.

Jen felt the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as he reached for her and jerked her into him. From the way his eyes scanned the dock she surmised that someone must have been looking up at the window. It might have been intentional or otherwise, but she knew better than to question his gut. They hadn't been talking, but a hush fell in the room which hadn't been there before.

She felt a familiar flutter in her stomach; the kind of tension she normally associated with fear. It took her a while to realise that it had nothing to do with the potential threat outside, and everything to do with the diminished space between them.

There was the same kind of atmosphere between them as there had been the night Marshall died.

The promise of something just within reach – if only they were brave enough to surrender to it.

Gibbs felt no need to apologize for being hypervigilant, but as the adrenaline rush started to recede slowly it didn't escape him that she was still clutching at his t-shirt and that he hadn't released her arm.

The sweltering heat had released more of her scent, and at such close range its effect was almost unbearable.

In the still and sultry air the only thing he could hear was the sound of their breathing, and it was little short of hypnotic. The advantage of his few extra inches afforded him a view that did nothing for his control, either. Her top was plastered so tightly to her now that he could see the outline of the breast that wasn't pressing up against him.

An errant bead of sweat broke loose somewhere, and trickled slowly down her chest.

The sight was mesmerizing.

He was cognizant of her breath hitching as he put out a finger and stopped it; feeling the balance between them tipping despite his best effort to resist. His body, however, had a mind of his own, and it was only her hand clamping over his that stopped his finger from dredging through the slickness in her cleavage.

Part of her wanted to cut loose and run, because she knew that things had already changed between them. The moment she looked at him, though, that change would be irrevocable. She moistened her lips and looked up at him – searching his eyes for some indication of what he might be thinking.

The hint of uncertainty tempered by longing almost made her take a step back. She'd never been much of a believer in suspended animation, but that was a pretty fair description of what was going on.

The feeling that things between them were poised on the cusp of change was intense - but she also found she didn't care.

Gibbs angled his head slightly. Watching her try to read him. Trying to read her. Doubt flickering in his mind as he attempted to decide whether he'd misread the signals he thought he'd received from her.

Outside a street lamp flickered - casting all sorts of surreal shadows across her face - and suddenly he was back in that parking lot with her. Her eyes widened slightly, and he knew instinctively that they were reliving the same memory. He was so caught up trying to make the right call that he missed the slight pressure on his finger. He didn't miss the small smile, however.

Her stomach dipped slightly as he lowered his face to hers. It was a feather light stroke. One which she would barely have felt if she hadn't been so attuned to him already. But the hesitation was still there; inherent in the way he seemed to hover over her.

Jen broke away slightly. Running her hand along his cheek. Maintaining eye contact as he pressed a kiss into it. Raising her other hand to his face. Holding it there for a while before wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing senseless kisses into the side of his head.

Their breathing was harsh. Interrupted only by the sound of his mouth against her slick skin. She moaned slightly when his lips assaulted the most sensitive spot on her neck, and nudged his chin out of the way feverishly when it became too much. Gnawing at his earlobes and throat until his hands pulled her head up and his mouth sought hers; his hands sliding along her throat seeking a purchase he couldn't find. She pressed her body against his, pinning him to the wall. Wishing they were naked and touching at every point. Nipping at his mouth with abandon. Searching for the traces of coffee and bourbon she knew to be part of him as their mouths melded. Heat and desire crashing over her in a great wave; the thought of backing down never crossing her mind.

His hands charted the course of her body restlessly. Sweeping up and down her back. Cupping her behind gently and pressing her against his jeans. Sucking in a breath as one of her hands slipped under his t-shirt and wandered hungrily over his torso; grazing a nipple before sliding down to the waistband of his jeans. She popped the top button, but before she could move to the next one, he captured her hand and brought it back up to his neck.

A dry rub against the wall of a godforsaken attic wasn't what he wanted. Determined to savour this, and her, he reined in the intensity. Slowing the kissing while allowing it to retain its promise of more. Gentling it gradually until he brought it to a total standstill by holding her close and pressing a hard kiss to her forehead. Sweeping a few tendrils of hair away from her face as he did so.

She leaned against him as she regained her breath. Enjoying the weight of his hands around her hips, and his nearness, as her chin rested on his shoulder. The beads of perspiration on the side of his head proved too tempting to resist however, and as she lapped at them she set them both off again.

"Jen .." he whispered as he wound an ankle around one of her own and pulled her back into him.

Her response was halfway between an exhalation and a moan. Spurring him to insert his fingers into the low cut of her top and pull the fabric down. Following the path with his mouth. He'd almost latched onto one of her breasts when somewhere down below there was a large crash.

He didn't say a word as he disengaged himself and reached for his weapon. Merely touched her face once before turning towards the door. His assurance that he would be back, and his request that she stay behind.

A door creaked open as walked down the steps from the attic, and the strawberry blonde appeared in the doorway. She looked him up and down appraisingly as he passed by.

"Monsieur aurait sans doute besoin d'un petit coup de main?"

Gibbs hesitated for a moment. Wondering about the coincidence of someone else being in the hallway.

"Rien d'argent," he replied after a long moment. Struggling to string a few French words together even though he wasn't remotely interested in a hand job.

"This one's on the house," she replied.

All traces of French accent gone as she beckoned him inside.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Tnis story's rating will switch to _M_ after this chapter - and will therefore not show up on the main page unless your filters are set to _ALL_ or you have it on some kind of alert.


	3. Chapter 3

_**The attic overlooking the docks**_

Jenny tightened her grip on the weapon in her hand as the door knob turned, and relaxed only fractionally when Gibbs re-entered the room.

As she watched him spool the film in the camera and toss it into a bag, she concluded that their operative had made contact in the ten-odd minutes that he'd been gone. She knew he wouldn't risk leaving the building until the stakeout was over; which told her that the operative had to be lodged within it. As he left the room again, her thoughts settled on the strawberry blonde she'd nicknamed Annie – and the fact that it was too much of a coincidence that a man had come off the trawler and gone inside with _her_. She wondered briefly how many other things were going on that she had no knowledge of, and spared a thought to whether Gibbs had known all along who the operative was and had kept the information from her.

She opted not to dwell.

Meanwhile, Gibbs slipped back into Annie's room.

"Need you to do something for me," was all he said as he handed over the bag.

"Same time tomorrow," she said when she'd heard what he wanted. "Perhaps a little bit earlier. It's the best I can do. Good enough?"

"It'll have to be," Gibbs said before he slipped out again.

_**Several hours later ..**_

Jen wouldn't have thought it was possible, but it was infinitely hotter than it had been the day before. The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the roof, turning the attic into an inferno. Her mouth felt as though she'd ingested cotton wool, and as she drained the last of her water supply the bottle felt oddly heavy in her hand. She was distracted from her mental checklist of all that wasn't right by Gibbs' voice.

"We've got company," he said as he reached for the camera and took a few photos of the people mingling purposefully on the dock.

"Feds?" Jen asked.

She adjusted the binoculars to get a sharper image, and immediately wished she hadn't.

A bout of lightheadedness swept over her; the second one that morning. She was sure that if she'd been on her feet she'd have needed the wall's support, and was immensely grateful Gibbs was otherwise occupied.

"They're not carrying," he mumbled as he snapped a few more pictures.

In reality, however, he was a little bit more concerned with her than the people out there doing their job.

She swayed slightly on the box – prompting him to wonder why she'd put down the binoculars and was staring up into her bottle as if she was willing the last drop or two to stop sticking to the side. It suddenly struck him that she was out of water. Something which didn't surprise him since she'd been using it to wash more than she had to drink. A picture started to form in his head that he didn't like. He'd seen her scrunch her eyes closed a few times during the course of the morning; the way one did with a headache. And watching her now there was a slight tremor to her right hand which shouldn't have been there, considering she was holding an empty bottle.

He picked up a water bottle from his feet and passed it over.

"All of it," he said as he went back to taking photos.

Jen wished the ground would open and swallow her up.

She should have known better than to hope he wouldn't notice.

Especially now.

When he'd come back from the drop off it was clear he had a lot of things on his mind. But as night had turned to day and things on the dock had started to pick up, so had matters between them. It was the little things. Sitting a lot closer together as they observed the outside world; glances that were a lot less surreptitious than they had previously been; the occasional touch that lasted longer than it normally would have.

There was no question about anything happening in broad daylight, but it kept things simmering between them.

Gibbs' mind was working on how what he'd learnt from Annie tied in with what they already knew.

Their operative had been clear. The man who had left the trawler was most certainly Turkish, and in the current climate that most likely meant drugs.

Gibbs watched the men on the dock, and would have bet good money on that they belonged to the _MILTDT_ - a French inter ministerial task force under the aegis of the Prime Minister, whose job was to improve the effectiveness of anti-trafficking measures and dismantle drug supply channels. Turkey was one of the major transit routes for the flow of Southwest Asian heroin to Europe. However, the drug was most commonly transferred to Europe hidden in containers on trucks. Not on boats. Which implied that the man that had come through last night was a potential customer. Most likely a drug dealer checking the route his stash would take if he let the ring take care of transportation. With discreet entry into France a side benefit. It supported the assumption that the ring had a lot more branches than they had originally thought .. and did nothing to help them determine whether they were state-sponsored or independent.

The only thing he was sure about was that whoever had taken out the marine-gone-rogue in Serbia was a professional. Probably ex-KGB. Kept on the fringes to be utilized as necessary. Something which made the man a _constant_. Tracking him down would mean they had a shot at infiltrating the ring.

He was wondering briefly what it would take, when out of the corner of his eye he saw Jenny sway again.

"Nothing's happening," he said. " Why don't you go lie down?"

He didn't like the way her eyes drifted closed almost before her head hit the pillow, but didn't start to get really concerned until it was five o'clock and she was still asleep. He squatted on the floor next to the bed and rummaged through her bag.

As he'd suspected, all of her water bottles were empty.

"Jen." He shook her arm. Gently at first, and then a little harder when she didn't respond. "Jen!"

Her sluggish response was an answer all its own.

"How long was I out?" she asked, closing her eyes against the light almost as soon as she'd opened them.

"Head still hurting?" he asked instead.

She didn't have the energy to ask how he knew she had a headache, but she could feel him watching her. She pushed herself into sitting position and swung her feet over the edge. As she stood up a wave of nausea hit her. Gibbs steadied her and pushed her back down onto the bed.

"Guess that answers the question of are you hungry," he said as he reached into his own bag and pulled out one of his water bottles. "You're dehydrated," he added as he took a long swallow of it and then handed it to her.

The look in his eyes brooked no refusal, and she accepted the offer gratefully – praying he wouldn't ask the next logical question about the last time she'd peed. She'd never peed in a bottle before and it had been quite the experience. He didn't ask, but she could see in his eyes that he was worried as he checked her carotid pulse.

"You need to keep drinking," he said as he pulled another bottle out of his bag.

"Is that your last one?"

God, she'd feel like an idiot if he ended up breaking protocol to go buy water.

"Got one more," he said as he uncapped it. "Drink it and stay where you are. I got it covered over here."

Jen settled back on the bed as he walked back to the window. The water was hot, and tasted as though the plastic had leached into it, but she forced herself to drink all of it before laying her head back down on the pillow. She raised her arm off the bed and let it fall limply back onto the sheets, hoping she'd feel better soon.

She hated feeling as though she was slacking off.

The next time she opened her eyes the room was darker. Gibbs was still sitting at the window but he was whittling a piece a wood he'd found in a corner earlier in the day. The sense of airlessness lingered but she felt less nauseous. She could feel a bead of sweat trickling down her neck – and figured it was a good sign. Sensing her stir, Gibbs stood from his box and walked over to the bed. He perched on the edge as she dragged herself towards the centre; noting that the lassitude had diminished somewhat. His hand trailed her forehead, and he was relieved to discover that she wasn't as hot as he'd feared.

Evidently she wasn't _that_ badly dehydrated.

"Heat's come down a bit," he said, letting his hand linger on her shoulder before reaching down into his bag and pulling out another bottle of water, "but you need to drink some more."

"I'm not drinking your last -"

He smiled, amused by the fact that she thought she could argue, and pressed two fingers to her lips.

"Drink it, Jenny."

Her eyes snapped to his at the use of her name. He hadn't called her that since the night in the parking lot and she wasn't prepared for how it made her feel, coming on the heels of what had transpired between them the night before. She pulled his fingers away from her mouth and was about to say something to him when a noise at the foot of the stairs alerted them to the fact that someone was creeping around outside the attic door.

Gibbs grabbed his weapon from the box and padded silently to the top of the stairs.

The door creaked slightly as the knob turned, and Gibbs held his breath as a small rustling sound echoed in the confined space. Milliseconds later another creak indicated that the intruder had pulled the door shut. After a few tense moments of silence he shone his flashlight down the steps - and smiled as his eyes fell upon a plastic bag.

Annie had come through.

Jen rolled a bottle of cold water across her face as she watched Gibbs strip off his t-shirt and take his knife to it.

He tossed a few ice cubes into one of the pieces and bunched it up.

"Back of your neck," he said as he gave her the rudimentary ice pack.

The sensation of ice against her neck was a shock to her system, and although it did much to revive her she found she couldn't keep it there long. She placed it on her face. Enjoying the way the melting ice sent cool water streaking downwards. When even that got to be too much she dabbed herself with it and then let it rest on her right shoulder. She closed her eyes momentarily, and only opened them when she felt Gibbs nudge her gently. She opened her eyes to find him settling on the bed next to her, and scooted over a little further. As she watched him raise a water bottle to his lips it didn't escape her that he was drinking the warm water, even though Annie had brought them several cold ones.

She found she couldn't keep her eyes off him. The only light in the room came from the outside, but it was enough to illuminate his torso and his face. Her mouth felt dry for an altogether different reason now, and she shifted unconsciously onto her side.

The ice broke free of the scrap of cloth and tumbled into the space between them.

Gibbs sucked in a breath as some of the the cubes bounced off his ribs, but opened his mouth without hesitation when she scooped one up and pressed it against his lips. The seriousness of the moment weighed on them both as he held her eyes; giving her the feeling all over again that he was holding back. But this time there was no thinking on her part, no hesitation. Only an acute awareness that she had to be the one to tip the balance. She brushed a thumb across his cheek, before reaching across to place a series of open mouthed kiss against his jaw. She felt him tense for a moment, and then his weight shifted upon the bed as he pushed her back down onto her back.

The hint of teeth against his stubble was enough to arouse him, although somewhere in the back of his mind he doubted she was up to yesterday's frenetic pace.

What they had going suited him, though. Suited the mood between them. He picked up an ice cube from the mattress and ran it over her lips. Watching avidly as she licked it, before sliding the dripping piece of ice over her chin and down to the hollow of her throat. He rotated it once and then let it loose. It slid into her tank top, and she shuddered as the cool water dissipated and ran down her sides. Her breath hitched when he raised the hem of her top; catching what was left of the ice cube in his mouth as it reached her navel. Reaching between them for two more cubes, he ran them slowly down her neck. Pausing slightly to slip one of the straps of her tank top down; gratified that she wasn't wearing a bra. He ran the cubes all over her shoulder and then dragged them over her collar bone. Not looking at her, but focusing on the trail of water he was creating.

Generating an atmosphere of hushed exploration that said more than words ever could.

Jenny whimpered as he pulled the flimsy material of her top away from her skin; feeling a nipple grow harder as the ice cubes drew nearer. She arched slightly as he traced its periphery, and sucked in a breath as he brought the ice up and over the tip. The sound was apparently a turn on for him because she felt his legs tangle with hers as he rubbed himself slowly against her hip. His hand settled around her breast and the sensation of his callused thumb grazing its chilled peak sparked heat to her groin and made her arch up again. She shivered despite the heat, and immediately felt him falter. She nuzzled his shoulder and reached down between them. His head dropped forward as she cupped him over his shorts, but he responded immediately by rubbing her gently over the inseam of her own. As her hand moved to pop the button on her shorts he stopped her. Pulling it back onto him and pressing it there.

He moaned as she caught the elastic waistband with her thumb just inside his pelvic bone; tangling a hand in her hair and shifting onto her as soon as he was divested of his clothes. She protested the fact that he wasn't making any attempt to return the favour, even as she welcomed his weight. She spread her legs so that she could feel the pressure against her clit through her shorts. Her hands ran restlessly over his back; moving down to cup his cheeks, and then up to fist in his hair. She squirmed beneath him. Taking his mouth in a hot, wet kiss in an attempt to sweep him into the maelstrom of her frustration. She spread her legs wider in silent entreaty, but he continued to tease. Caressing the inside of her thighs as he suckled on a breast. Smiling against her skin when she pressed her hips upwards and demanded more. He traced the seam of the crotch with his fingers again – finally forcing her to push his hand upwards towards the button. As he pulled everything off her, the smell of her arousal permeated the attic – amplified by the heat and humidity. The smell wove itself around them and he felt himself tighten a bit more. He touched her. Sliding his finger back and forth through the moisture. Wanting to prolong the pleasure of anticipation.

To drive her to the brink of begging.

His breath felt hot as he peppered kisses on her clavicle, but not as hot as the fingers against her sensitized flesh. He pried her hand from the sheet and licked the crook of her elbow. Dredging his lips against her forearm until he reached her wrist and sucked gently at the pulse point there. The air between them seemed to become denser still as he wrapped his arms around her and rocked them both. Burying his head in her neck as he murmured something incomprehensible which might have been her name.

He propped himself up on one hand and sank into her languidly. Starting another kind of slow burn. Withdrawing and re-entering in long broad strokes. She clutched at him; sweat beading everywhere as she urged him to a faster pace that he seemed determined to deny her. But even so, the warmth that had started as a sharp heat at her lips slowly softened and diffused into her belly. She took the torture as long as she could stand it, and then with a little growl of impatience pushed him over and lowered herself onto him. Surprise flashed across his face, and he bit his lip and held on tight as she guided his hands to the metal bars on the headboard.

Gibbs felt his eyes roll back in his head. The sound of their harsh breathing echoed round the room, adding one more stimulus to their lovemaking. But it was the sight and sensation of her leaning back to grasp his shins that was ultimately his undoing. The stretch was so intense that he almost came on the spot. Instinctively he pressed his thumb to her clit and tried to sit upright. Holding her tightly in their frantic copulation; their oneness complete. She sank her teeth into his shoulder as she came - in a rhythmic crescendo of contractions that was his cue to flip her onto her back again and follow her over the edge.

She felt his hardness fade as he smothered her body with the weight of his own, and as she ran her hands along his scarred back his heartbeat lulled her into post-coital bliss just as surely as the endorphins drifting along her blood stream. He moved a strand of hair away from her face and their eyes met. She wondered whether she should say anything, but before she could give it any real thought he caressed her face tenderly and settled on the pillow beside her.

Jenny looked over at the window, and smiled when she realised that he had left the video camera running. No doubt with the lens trained on the trawler. She looked back at him, expecting to find that he had drifted off.

But he hadn't.

He turned her onto her side, wordlessly, and spooned up behind her.

Dropping a kiss to the nape of her neck and her shoulder before letting sleep take him.


	4. Chapter 4

_**The attic overlooking the docks**_

_**Just before dawn  
**_

"They're raiding the trawler," Jen said as she picked up the binoculars and peered through them. "Looks like the same people from this morning."

Gibbs mumbled his assent as he picked up the camera and snapped off a few shots. They watched in silence as one of the agents stopped at the foot of the gangplank and placed a call; surveying his surroundings warily as he did so. Gibbs was zooming in on the man when Jenny touched his arm. He followed the incline of her head, and swore under his breath as he saw their operative being escorted off the boat.

"His cover should have held," Jenny said in disbelief.

"Someone tipped them off," Gibbs growled. His gut going into overdrive as he put the camera aside and reached for his weapon.

Jen sucked in a breath as her eyes met his and saw the concern in them.

"Annie," she gasped as she reached for her own gun and followed him.

The house was still as they made their way through it; the corridors illuminated only by the lights out on the dock. Their shadows prowled the walls as they covered one another; making the place feel crowded. Adding to the tension. Gibbs looked at her once as she took up position on the other side of Annie's door; the fact that it was ajar imbuing neither one of them with confidence.

He nodded once before pushing the door in and taking point.

Jen exhaled sharply. There was no need to feel for a pulse to know that the woman on the floor was dead, but she watched with a heavy heart as Gibbs checked anyway. Even in the dim light it was clear that she'd been shot at close range, execution style. A sense of helplessness ricocheted through her as she thought of the vital woman laughing on the dock just a few hours earlier, now reduced to nothing.

She shuddered as she considered the prospect of dying alone in a place as bleak as this, and focused on the fact that Jethro had her back to help her get through the moment.

Gibbs' mind raced as he realized he was going to have to make a judgement call. The only thing that made sense was that Annie had let her guard down around someone she knew. A probie mistake which had cost her her life. Two covers being blown was no coincidence. He had to consider the possibility that if someone had been watching Annie closely, they'd been compromised as well; and if they _had_ they'd be nothing more than sitting ducks up in that attic.

"We need to get out of here," he said abruptly as he got to his feet.

A few minutes later they were inching their way towards the back door when the sounds of a one-sided conversation floated towards them.

Despite the fact that the speaker was using hushed tones, it sounded particularly harsh at this time of the morning, and Jenny identified it immediately as Russian – even if she couldn't understand what was being said.

Beside her Gibbs' eyes narrowed.

He moved so fast that Jenny had no time to prepare herself for what happened next.

By the time Bessie realised that someone had crept up on her it was too late.

Gibbs dispatched her with a single shot.

Somewhere in the back of her head Jen registered that he was saying something, but she was too frozen to respond. Gibbs nudged Bessie's crumpled form over with his foot; reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small weapon. Relieving her of her phone a moment later.

He tossed Jen one look over his shoulder.

"Lets go," he said as he headed for the door.

An hour later Jen was watching the world go by in a blur of scenery as they left Marseille behind. She wanted to put her nausea down to Gibbs' driving but she knew she was fooling herself. Try as she might she couldn't stop seeing his face as he'd taken Bessie out. She had no doubt that he had made the right call based on whatever it was he had heard, but the nature of the killing had left her reeling. She'd seen him kill in the field before. Had even taken a few shots herself. But those had been firefights, or times when she or her team mates had been under threat.

This had been different.

She'd never seen anything like this up close and personal.

There had been blankness in his expression; and although she knew that it had been the only way things could have ended, his detachment had chilled her to the bone.

Making her think all over again of her father's death.

She felt the bile rise in her throat as his image danced before her eyes.

Had his killer felt anything, or had he pulled the trigger as dispassionately as Gibbs had?

The pain of loss and frustration hit hard and she bit down on her lower lip almost viciously enough to draw blood.

She knew Gibbs was watching her. Just as she knew he wasn't going to ask what was on her mind. But the small bubble of unease in her chest kept expanding and expanding until finally she acknowledged that the answers she needed could only come from him.

"Does it get any easier?"

He didn't have to ask what she was talking about because it was etched into every fibre of her body.

"Goes with the territory, Jen," he said carefully.

"How do I - "

Gibbs reached for the hand that was gripping the side of the seat.

"You watch, you learn."

Even before the next words tumbled out of her mouth, she hated how weak she was going to sound.

"What if I ca-"

"That's what you have _me_ for," he said as he wrapped his hand around hers and caressed her skin with his thumb. "To teach you how to accept."

Jen squeezed his hand gently as she leaned her head against the window.

She knew she ought to look at him, but she couldn't risk him seeing the pain in her eyes.

Or the fear that she might not be able to justify his faith in her.


End file.
